A Packless Wolf
by Forrunner117
Summary: A Captain's House is Shattered, Broken, Dead. So she sets out to rebuild and unite the fallen houses.


Praksis remembered many things, but first she remembered Venus, she remembered the feeling of the humidity on her armor, the smell of the Screaming-Machine-Fluid as it coated her armor, coating her swords, coating everything as she and her house fought their way across the lush and angular landscapes of venus.

"Captain."

Praksis remembered the Screaming-Demon-Vex, how they appeared from nowhere, how they tore into her house, she remembered their weapons, the grisly rifles and cannons that ripped reality apart. Praksis remembered the faces of the dead as they stared blankly at the sky, some not even knowing what they had fought for, what they had died for.

"Captain."

Praksis remembered the words of her Kell, her "Traitor-Kell", the one she had believed in, the one she had devoted herself to. "Have faith, for soon House Wolves will conquer not just the City, not just the Great Machine, but all of time. All of time will belong to the House of Wolves!"

"Captain."

Praksis remembered those words, those words burned into her mind, those words spoken to her by Skolas, her "Traitor-Kell", and she had held those words close to her heart, placing her faith fully in the House of Wolves, believing Skolas to be the Starfinder, the Kell of Kells, and she had believed herself, Praksis, to be his sword, his shield, his weapon against the Great Machine and the Not-Long-Dead-Warriors. A lie, It had all been a lie.

"Captain!"

Praksis didn't remember how they had failed, she had been wounded by one of the Screaming-Demon-Vex, and Skolas had ordered her to wait, to save her energy in order to be ready, so her pack, the Silent fang, the fervent zealots of House Wolves, would be able to defend Skolas as he returned. but the Not-Long-Dead-Warriors fought past them, and they had captured Skolas, given to him to the Awoken. and the rest of House Wolves was hunted down, broken, killed, and given to the other houses, Praksis and the Silent Fang were given to House Dusk, who treated them as a simple part of their house, docking many vandals, demoting captains, killing dregs, Praksis had been one of the only captains to escape the violence, convincing House Dusk they needed at least one captain that was trusted by the Silent Fang, to prevent an uprising, or even a war within the house, they had reluctantly agreed.

"Captain!"

Praksis snapped awake, whirling to her feet, and causing the surprised dreg to fall back away from the shock pistol that had stopped only a few inches from it's face. Praksis took a moment to steady her breathing, looking at her surroundings to orient herself. her pack had been scouting for two days around the area the Not-Long-Dead-Warriors called the "European Dead Zone." keeping a watchful eye on the Blood-Painted-Cabal, and ensuring they did not trespass too far into the territory of House Dusk.

Dawn was just arriving, the bright light of the sun beginning to wash all its rays touched in a golden sheen. Praksis' pack had camped under the cracked and worn remains of a bridge stretching between two stones in the marsh area that had been dubbed "Winding Cove".

she let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding and holstered her shock pistol as the vandals leapt down from the positions they had taken above and around their campsite.

"Captain, the pack is prepared to leave on your command." the dreg looked to her, to which she responded with a short nod, it would be good to return to the ketch. "Call the pike-riders." Praksis rasped to the dreg as the vandals drew near. "we return to the ketch before the day ends." The dreg nodded hastily before moving briskly away from her to find the nearest telemetry. The vandals approached, and Praksis turned to the one leading the group. "any problems during the night?" The vandal shook its head. "No captain, the Blood-Painted-Cabal were quiet, and did not disturb us." Praksis narrowed her eyes, it was very much unlike the Blood-Painted-Cabal to leave their pack completely undisturbed. "We return to the Ketch." she said, looking to each of them in turn, "But remain on guard, this patrol seems all too easy."

Each of the vandals nodded, first to her, then to each other. just as the vandals made their way past Praksis to join the main group of the pack, the dreg returned. "the Pike-Riders know of our plans, and shall meet us in the Gulch to the north." Praksis nodded, then looked out at the lake that dominated the south of the zone. "Pray the riders are fast." she growled to the dreg. "We leave now."

Praksis had always felt at home on the battlefield, not in a ketch, not in a ship, but with her troops, with her allies, with her pack. the pack had to travel for nearly an hour to arrive at the area designated as the Gulch, ahead of them, a broken road led over a small canyon, a shallow river running through the stones near the bottom, moving cautiously, Praksis led the pack through the water of the canyon, occasionally glancing up to ensure the vandals were still following them along the tops of the cliffs, keeping a watchful eye down upon them.

as they crested a small hill between two stones, they arrived in the gulch, and Praksis thrust a hand being her, bringing her pack to a stop. The floor of the gulch was spotted with craters, the burnt remains of trees dotted here and there across the landscape, the broken remains of a Blood-Painted-Cabal tank rested against a wall of the canyon, still blazing despite its apparent age. praises turned to the group and beckoned the few vandals that'd remained in the pack forward, five in total. "follow me closely, and cover my blind areas." they each nodded in turn, knowing she would do the same with them. Praksis looked to the rest of her pack and pressed her hand in a downward motion, signaling them to remain where they were. Then, she and the five vandals slowly and cautiously mad their way forward.

the six continued unhindered until they had arrived in what Praksis assumed was the middle of the canyon, seeing no problems, Praksis rose to her full height, turning slowly in a circle until she was sure the area was clear, she turned to call her pack forward, until the battle cries of the Blood-Painted-Cabal echoed through the Gulch. Praksis and the five vandals all turned quickly to find a circular door in the cliff face had open, and was spilling out Blood-Painted-Cabal at an alarming rate, first five, ten, twenty, forty. Praksis turned and let out a panicked cry, which reverberated across the walls of he canyon, and at once, the thirty warriors in her pack rushed over the hill to aid their captain. swarming upon her position and forming battle ranks.

Praksis had heard stories of the Blood-Painted-Cabal, of how coordinated their forces were, of how many battles they won, and now she found herself facing three of their legionaries at once.

She dove to the side, one of the legionary's wrist-blades fizzing harmlessly over her skull, and found herself face to face with another, whose wrist-blade swung into her chest, denting her mail and knocking her to the ground, Praksis was up in an instant, her shock swords grasped in both of her upper hands, her lower set of hands grasping her shock dagger and shock pistol.

as the legionary charged her, she dove to the side, just as before, and thrust her shock sword into its gut, tearing it out, she watched as the legionary's organs spilled out into the water, then turned to face the next two. The other two legionaries did not seem all too keen on coming into close quarters with a captain of the Silent Fang, so she would make them. Dropping low, Praksis rushed forward and used her swords to tear into the nearest legionary, knocking him to the ground, she then turned to the second legionary as he trained his weapon on her and fired. The blast from his weapon knocked her to the ground, and as she attempted to rise, she found an insurmountable pain in her midsection, barring her from rising, as the legionary closed in , praises raised her arms in order to minimize the damage she would sustain from the attack, but the legionary never got the chance. the hum of a wire rifle cut through the sounds of battle, and with a high pitched hiss, the legionary's head exploded.

Praksis lowered her arms to her midsection as three vandals closed upon her and safeguarded her body while she rose to her feet, as she turned to survey the aftermath of the battle a familiar sight greeted her eyes, the Blood-Painted-Cabal, dead, their numbers decimated, with minimal losses on the pack's side. Praksis looked down at herself, her armor burnt and dented, but still functional, almost as an instinct, she brought her hand to her neck, where she held a string of Little-Light shards, trophies take from her multitude of battles against the Great Machine. as the survivors of the pack made their way over to their captain, Praksis heard the high pitched whine of pikes as the pack tended to their wounds and looked over their gear, she let out a sigh of relief as they crested the hill, five pikes in total. they pulled in close, fishtailing to bring themselves up alongside her. "captain, we heard the sounds of battle and came as quickly as our pikes would allow, I'm sorry we could not arrive sooner." rasped the dreg riding the pike in a panicked tone.

Praksis nodded, not wanting to admit she was disappointed, the pikes would have drastically tipped the battle in their favor, but there was little they could do, so she settled to give a small nod. "no matter, come, we return to the ketch." she growled, moving herself to the front of the pack, who all fell into place behind her.

House Dusk's Ketch cut an imposing silhouette across the sky, situated silently over the dark forest. Praksis silently led her pack through the trees to the area containing the gravity lift, situated on an old highway, with gaps in the stone where centuries of rain and decay had eroded the road and stone beneath away to nothing. as the pack drew near, several forms materialized from the lift, it was the Kell's Guard, and the Kell.

Praksis couldn't help but clench her jaw, the Kell, Droliks, seemed to harbor a special hatred for her and the Silent Fang, even so, sh bowed low, and her pack followed suit, showing Droliks the respect due to a Kell. "the Wolves return, tell me of your patrol." Droliks growled, glaring pointedly at Praksis. Praksis struggled to speak past the knot in her throat, harboring a deep resentment and no small amount of fear for the towering Kell. "my Kell." she paused steeling her nerves. "the Blood-Painted-Cabal have pushed further into our territory, and saw fit to attack my pack and I, however, we slaughtered them with minimal losses." Praksis kept her head held high, not directly challenging the Kell, but not showing any sign of submission.

the Kell growled and stalked forward and looked down at Praksis, her small form seeming like that of a dreg compared to himself, and in raising his hand, he struck the captain across the faceplate, sending her spinning to the ground, and causing the dregs and vandals to scramble away to avoid his rage. "when next you give a report, you will show me the respect I am owed, or I will take the respect I am owed." the Kell growled to the captain on the ground, before turning imperiously and storming into the gravity lift, followed by his guard.

Praksis Glared after the Departing Kell, respect he was owed? he was not owed the respect due a dog, the only respect he had earned was the respect due a tyrant, none. Praksis rose to her full height and turned to her pack, all of them looking to her, she could feel their nervousness, their curiosity, their fear. taking a breath, Praksis felt her lungs fill with not just air, but a feeling she had longed for ever since House wolves had been broken, the feeling of purpose. "I may belong to House Dusk." She growled to her pack. "but House Dusk is not my House, I leave at dawn, and I intend to rebuild House Wolves, to take back the respect I am owed, that we are owed as the Silent Fang. who will follow me?" the dregs and vandals looked to each other, then to her. Praksis narrowed her eyes to them, and raised her voice. "I ask again, Who will follow me!?" The cry was unanimous, all would follow Praksis, last captain among the silent fang, and now, rightful Kell to the House of Wolves.

Praksis led her pack through the a small riverbed towards the old city called Trostland. It had been five days since they had abandoned House Dusk, and after much deliberation, Praksis had formed a plan, the pack would steal a ship, use it to steal another, then two more, then four, then eight, then more and more, until finally they would take a ketch. a far cry from the plans they had formed when they had followed Skolas, but it was a start. Praksis climbed up to a high outcropping of stone, getting a higher view of the area, pulling the wire rifle hanging from her side by the strip of leather she had used to strap it to her body, she raised the scope to her eye and looked along the riverbed, several House Dusk patrols mulled about the area, but would cause the pack no trouble, there was no sign of the Blood-Painted-Cabal. Praksis lowered the rifle, letting it hang from her shoulder as she climbed back down the outcropping, as she reached the ground, Praksis turned her eyes westward, to where the sun hung low over the horizon. "We camp here, and enter the old city tomorrow." She growled to the vandal by her side, who nodded, and called out to the other vandals, which began to climb outcroppings and other areas to grant them a higher elevation, and allow them to keep watch over the pack. Praksis turned to the rest of the pack, and after ensuring that the dregs and vandals were preparing for rest, climbed up a small outcropping as the vandals had done. lifting the bandoleer of her wire rifle off her shoulder, Praksis leaned back against the rock outcropping, and placed the rifle in her lap, gazing out upon the lake down below the cliff face the Pack had camped upon, as she lay back, Praksis allowed her mind to wander, back to her time in house wolves, fervently serving Skolas, taking trophies like the Little-Light shells she had strung about her neck, a time where she had something to put her faith into, not just the loose hope of a ship, of a home. Shaking her head, Praksis pulled herself back to reality, looking back down at her pack, sleeping lightly on the ground beneath her. She looked back out at the vast lake, and promised herself that she would rebuild House Wolves, and make a safe home for the eliksni, she felt her chest swell with confidence, swell with a small flicker of hope, hope that was quickly dashed as she felt a Metal-Rifle-Slug enter her shoulder with a sharp crack.

Praksis snapped awake with a start, she was lying on the ground, ether staining the grass around her body, as she flinched, a sharp pain lanced through her body, stemming from a wound in her shoulder, raising her head slightly, she saw three forms picking over the bodies of her pack, the first was a hulking figure, wearing amor of white and gold, his fists drenched in ether, the second in flowing robes of silver and blue, seeming to glide over the bodies of her dead pack without ever touching the ground, the third wore a torn cloak, and wore thin plated armor. As they walked among the bodies, a drag attempted to stand, perhaps to run, perhaps to fight, only to be kicked down by the cloaked figure and shot in the head, without mercy, without hesitation. the cloaked figure said something, drawing laughter from the other two, the hulking warrior stalked over to the body of a vandal and picked it up by its neck, before throwing it across the ground, probably checking to ensure it was dead. Praksis felt her heart quicken within her chest and curled tighter, closing her eyes, she had not factored the presence of the Not-Long-Dead-Warriors into her plans, they hadn't even crossed her mind. closing her hand around the string of Little-Light shells around her neck, she began to pray to whatever was listening, the Great Machine, Skolas, anything.

Sabre-9 never really "enjoyed" killing fallen, but still she couldn't deny the adrenaline rush it brought her to put a few bullets in some bad guy skulls, so here she stood, stalking with her fireteam through the remains of a large group of fallen they had ambushed, sending any of the survivors back to whatever hellhole they crawled out from, as she crept about, checking the bodies, she saw a shift out of the corner of her optical receptor, turning her head, she saw the form of a captain curled against an outcropping some twenty feet away, striding nonchalantly over, she stared down at the alien's form. She could just cap it in the head right now, pull out her hand cannon and be done with it, but even as she reached for her weapon, something stopped her, it just didn't feel... "right" to shoot this wounded captain, didn't seem fair. turning to Wrecker and Kiva, she called over to them. "Hey!" they stopped their business and looked to her. "you two book it! I'll finish the cleanup!" Wrecker and Kiva looked to each other, Kiva shrugged, then called back. "of you say so! we'll catch you in crucible!" and after their farewells, they called in their ships and departed. after waiting long enough to feel confident they were in orbit, Sabre turned and strode back to the captain, crossing her arms and glaring down at it. "Okay ugly, Up." the captain froze, but made no move to stand, so Sabre kicked it a few times. "I said up." Sabre waited for a few moments, then finally the captain began to move. slowly climbing to its feet, the captain rose to its full height, towering over the guardian, standing a full one to two heads taller than the hunter, as the two figures stood there, sabre looked into the captains eyes, cold and analytical and filled with the same fear Sabre had felt as the city fell around her, the captain's eyes darted away from her, looking to something over sabre's shoulder. against her better judgement sabre looked over her shoulder to whatever had caught the captain's gaze, and saw a wire rifle laying prone on the ground. Sabre looked back to the captain, then, against her better judgement, stepped aside and gestured to the rifle with a lowered hand cannon.

Praksis looked incredulously between her rifle and the Not-Long-Dead-Warrior, was this a trick? was the Not-Long-Dead-Warrior going to allow her to grab at the rifle and shoot her in the back? Keeping the Not-Long-Dead-Warrior firmly in front of her, as she approached her rifle, she reached down and took it into her hands, before rising again, and retuning to her original position in front of the Not-Long-Dead-Warrior.

Sabre took a few steps away from the captain. "consider this a favor." she snapped as she backed away, she didn't normally do this, but the captain would be fine, they were fallen, greedy scavengers that they were. after she reached a distance she judged to be safe, saber turned on her heel and waved down her ship, preparing for transmat.

as the Not-Long-Dead-Warrior vanished, and their ship left Praksis standing alone, she allowed her eyes to drift down towards the bodies of her pack, the last of House Wolves. As Praksis stood there, looking over the depressing sight of her dead pack, a fleeting thought flickered in the back of her mind, House Kings. She would go to House Kings, win them over or kill their Kell, if she was forced to, then she'd move on to House Devils, then House Winter, then finally, she would return and crush House Dusk.


End file.
